


Meeting Me, Meeting You

by lasirene



Series: These Mortal Desires [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Major Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasirene/pseuds/lasirene
Summary: First meetings aren't always romantic.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Erika Deforest (OFC), Logan (X-Men)/Original Female Character
Series: These Mortal Desires [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693444
Kudos: 11





	Meeting Me, Meeting You

**Author's Note:**

> This story is basically a prequel to my Logan x OFC fic, These Mortal Desires. I originally wrote this out for my own reference, but finally finished it and figured I might as well share it.

Bethesda Fountain burbled in front of Erika, sunlight sparking off the water. It was a pleasantly warm day in April, but she could not entirely enjoy it. Erika had just gotten out of a dress rehearsal at the opera, though she was only an alternate – again. It was disheartening, her lack of progress in the Metropolitan Opera. She had been a star rocketing to fame back home in Paris, but she had needed a change of pace to clear her mind after so many things had gone wrong. She had been hesitant to aim for the Metropolitan Opera, still unsure if she would stay in America or return to France. Her uncle had told her to go and try though, so she had. And so far, there was nothing to show. Only endless positions as an alternate, being told in that indirect way that she was not good enough.

Erika breathed out a heavy sigh, crumpling the aluminum foil that had once contained a wrap. She stood from her bench and threw it in the nearest trash with more force than necessary. It was so easy to be angry at everything. Everything was so complicated lately. Erika promised herself she would only try for another year. If she made no progress by next spring, she would go home and resume her life there. Anything but the constant stagnation. Already the latest season was almost over with little to show. She had a foothold, tenuous at best, and the more she struggled, the more she felt herself slipping.

She started to move forward, lost in her own thoughts, mulling over what she must be doing wrong. She cast a last glance to the fountain, preparing to leave it for the day, when her shoulder jarred against another. Erika staggered, but a large hand caught her elbow and held her steady.

“You okay?”

Erika blinked, looking up at the man she had run into. She couldn’t help herself from noticing his appearance. He looked rugged, though it didn’t draw from the fact that he was attractive. He wore a red flannel shirt, open at the throat and showing just a hint of dark hair on his chest, sleeves rolled up to show strong arms, fabric stretched over broad shoulders and a strong chest. His dark hair, as dark as her own long curls, swept back from his brow. His face was etched with a frown that looked as if it spent plenty of time in residence. His clothes suggested he didn’t belong in the city, and the tension in his wide shoulders echoed the sentiment.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she spoke. Her accent came out thicker than normal, unguarded; the three words rolled into each other. Her French voice was sweet as spring flowers, contrasted against the husky warmth the man spoke with.

“You sure?” he asked. His brown-green eyes skipped down to Erika’s shoes. The ankle boots she wore had rather low heels, but she felt a bit flattered by his concern that she may have tripped.

“I am,” she replied, smiling a bit shyly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

The man smiled, his hand loosening from her arm. “I’m just as guilty. It’s hard not to look at the fountain when you go by.”

Erika glanced at the fountain and found herself nodding in agreement. “It is lovely,” she said. Her words startled her, as did the urge to keep talking. “I like to grab something for lunch and bring it ‘ere.”

The man hummed softly. “You work near here?”

“A couple blocks away. I’m an opera singer.”

“Huh. Can’t say I’ve ever met an opera singer before. At least not for sure.”

Erika smiled a little. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You don’t exactly look like ze opera type.”

The man’s frown was gone, and now it was replaced by a brief half smile. “Appearances can be deceiving. I’m Logan, by the way.” He held out his hand, though they still stood close.

She regarded him, then took his hand to shake. “Erika. And I am sorry I bumped into you earlier.”

“Don’t mention it, eh? No harm done. Mind if I ask where you’re from?”

Erika smiled, unsurprised by the question. She could hide her accent if she wanted, but she was vain enough to love her voice, whether it was speaking or singing. She shifted closer to the fountain, easing away from the foot traffic. “Ze accent gives me away, _non_? It certainly isn’t Manhattan. I’m from France, Paris to be specific.”

“Long way from home,” Logan said. “I can understand. I’m from Alberta.”

“Canada?” Erika hummed softly at his nod. “And what brings you to New York City?”

“Business,” he replied. “I live a ways out of the city, though.”

“Good. You don’t look exactly comfortable ‘ere.”

“Christ, no. It’s loud and crowded. The park’s better.”

Erika couldn’t help but smile. “I couldn’t agree more.” She’d thought the exact same many times over. “Paris is not like this. It is quieter, easier. Kinder, even, I would say.”

“Rough transition, eh?”

Erika pursed her lips, hesitating. It was strange of her to have a conversation with a person she didn’t know. She had been shy as a child and had grown into a deeply introverted woman. She did not make friends easily. Yet something about Logan made him easy to talk to. Maybe it was the devoted way he listened, clearly tuned in to their conversation. She felt that she could lay all her troubles out, at this exact moment. “Yes,” she said, the word coming out with a deep, soulful sigh. Erika had backed up a couple more steps and sat down on the lip of the fountain. Logan didn’t hesitate to sit next to her, keeping a polite distance between them.

“It’s just… It’s beyond difficult,” Erika started. “I went away from Paris for personal reasons, and I intended to simply spend time with relatives down around New Orleans. I missed opera terribly ze whole time. I was considering going back ‘ome when I learned about an opening at The Met. It is ze finest opera ‘ouse in all of America. I believed I wasn’t ready to go back to Paris yet, so I came ‘ere. I ‘ave ze talent to belong – egotistical and vain of me, I know, but it’s true. I ‘ave a position, but I’m making no progress. Plus, I can barely afford to live in ze city, and I’m even sharing an apartment. It’s ‘orrible. I feel like I made a mistake coming ‘ere. I’ve been ‘ere almost a whole season and I’ve ‘ad one tiny role that I performed. Otherwise I’ve been an alternate. It’s miserable.”

“Maybe it just needs a little more time,” Logan said when it was clear she had finished. “Patience is a virtue and all that.”

“Maybe,” Erika agreed. “But I’m not sure I can afford to wait another whole year at this rate.” She sighed again, bracing her hands on the rough stone lip. “I’m sorry. I imagine zis was not what you intended to do with your day.”

Logan shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. In fact, I might know a way to help you out, at least temporarily.”

Erika looked up at him. “An odd coincidence, I’d say.”

Logan didn’t answer at first, but when he did, he started with a sigh. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. I said I was in the city for business, which is true. The business relates to you.”

“Me?” She almost sputtered on air. “You’re – you’re being creepy now-”

“I know. Just gimme a minute, I can explain. I work at a school about an hour from here, Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“Xavier?” The name rang a bell in her mind. “You don’t mean Charles Xavier, do you?”

“I do. It’s a school for mutants. Any mutant is welcome to stay there, to get help with either their powers or just life in general if they need it.”

Erika bristled, shifting away from him. Mutant views varied widely and wildly. New York City was liberal and one of the safer places in America, but Erika knew better than to broadcast her status as a mutant. “What makes you believe I’m a mutant?”

Logan glanced around. No one paid them any mind; plenty of people were sitting around the fountain and talking. He shifted to shield himself better and brought up one hand between them. The hand curled into a fist – and sharp metal points cut through the thin skin between his knuckles. He waited only a second before retracting them again, shaking his hand in a clearly unconscious gesture. “They’re a lot longer, but they’re not exactly discreet. You don’t have to hide what you are among friends.”

“All right,” she replied, “you’ve piqued my interest. But how did you find me? You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“Not at all. Xavier sent me to see if you were a threat, which you definitely aren’t. If you wanna check the school out, you’re welcome to.” He pulled a little business card out of his pocket. Erika took it, reading the address of the school.

“And I could just drop in at any time?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Logan replied. “Though if you want, you can come with me to see it now.”

It was all so sudden, a whirlwind of opportunity and uncertainty. She tugged at the ends of her long, dark hair, teeth worrying absently at her lip. Did she trust him? It could all be an elaborate trap. Or maybe he was just a nice guy trying to help her.

It was an easy thing to find out, if invasive. Erika dropped the shields on her powers, reaching out towards him with invisible feelers. It wouldn’t work if he was closed off, but she found him open to her.

As an empath, Erika could read a person’s emotions, and she was surprised to see that Logan wore his all but on his sleeve. He was sincere, genuinely concerned for her after her confession about the difficulties she faced. There were no intentions of harming her.

Her shields came back up as Erika nodded. “I will.” She met his eyes, cool and calm. “I have mace spray in my purse and if you try anything, I will use it.”

Logan nodded, eyes twinkling with a hint of a smile. “Noted.” He stood, holding a hand out for her. “Ready to hit the road?”

Erika smiled, letting her hand slip into his, and his steady touch to guide her to her feet. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”


End file.
